Firefly Glen but when i go to sleep at night, don't you call my name

she had already rounded on his prone form, intent on pressing more fathomless into the inkspillage shadows, when her ears lit touch of his inquiry. she paused midstep— 

he'd been hapless quarry in her presence, and still he did not extol her intent to retreat? on the contrary, he sought more time amid her company. it all seemed malapropos to her, further disheveling logical thought. 

perhaps he was pack ravening. she'd heard of the phenomenon, but had never encountered a wolf so wanting of companionship that he would bid for her. she did not turn her head, because she knew if she saw the frets upon his muzzle, within the mustard seed of goodness in her soul, guilt would be garrisoned. "yes." her voice dripped. she walked a step more. stopped.

the woman canted her head edgeways, but still did not turn to him. "do you have to stay?" she asked in return.